You're My (Other) Best Friend
by Ashley5627
Summary: Neal might have told Peter that he was his best friend, but he wasn't his only best friend. Post-series.


**This is just a little fic I made for the runthecon challenge at LiveJournal.**

 **Warning: Spoilers for the whole series. Read at your own risk.**

 **I'm personally not a fan of how things ended on White Collar (as I'm sure many of you are not either, seeing how many people have rebooted it) so I decided to do a post-series story. It started out as a simple friendship story, but turned into a reunion. Ah well, c'est la vie.**

Mozzie had always been there for Neal, through it all, the good, the bad and the ugly. Never had he let him down. Regretfully, Neal had been the one to let him down. The worst thing someone like them could do was turn against their own kind and he did just that to save his own skin. Mozzie didn't turn his back on him like he probably should have, instead he helped him with each problem that came up and every con that needed planned, barely ever asking for something in return but a bottle of wine and an ear to listen to the latest conspiracy theories.

Since the day Mozzie followed him to his crappy apartment so long ago, he was there for him. The only times they really separated after that was when he went after the music box with Alex the first time, when he went to prison - even though Mozzie had tried to talk him out of going after Kate when he could tell it as a trap - and when he faked his own death to protect those closest to him. Mozzie, Peter, Elizabeth, June. They were alive and safe because he wasn't in their lives anymore.

For the year that Neal was alone in France, wandering the streets of quaint villages and the hallways of museum after museum, he felt like something vital was missing, like a phantom limb that he had foolishly chosen to cut off. In that time, he didn't have someone to joke and drink with, didn't have someone to talk about art and the governments recent plots to take over the establishment. For the first couple of months, he'd turn to his right and expect to see his bespectacled friend, but all he'd see was an emptiness that could never be filled by anyone else. It was one of the hardest times of his life, harder than when he ran away from home because he now knew of friendship that was completely and utterly unconditional.

While Neal had planned each and every part of his death, he hadn't thought to think of what happened after. The loneliness hit him hard and fast after he made it to Paris, the only other place that felt like home to him. He tried to meet new people, make new connections, start over, but it all felt wrong and forced. It didn't take long for the walls to close in on him after he realized the mistake he had made. He didn't regret saving the ones he loved from those after him, but he regretted leaving the people that he once considered family.

He had to tell someone that Neal Caffrey was still alive. Every person that he once knew thought he was dead and he couldn't stand it anymore.

He sent a bottle of Bordeaux to Peter and Mozzie a key to the storage container with a simple note that had the address for the container and a, " _You'll thank me_ ," that Mozzie would find either amusing or infuriating before he could change his own mind. Someone had to know he was still out there somewhere and his two closest friends would be able to easily figure it out with those clues. Neal had to wonder which one would come, if either of them planned to.

WCWCWCWC

Neal was the only one that truly got Mozzie. He took him at face value, proverbial warts and all. Before the kid had came into his life, he had no emotional attachments to anyone but Mr. Jeffries. Neal changed him in a new and scary way. Never before did he feel the need to protect and teach another human being. He had been a loner until he saw Neal and his talents on a New York street corner so long ago.

Despite his previous tendencies to go it alone, Mozzie ended up taking Neal under his wing and they were practically inseparable since. How it happened almost without Mozzie noticing, he did not know. There was a bond between them that seemed impossible to break, whether it be a persistent FBI agent or a faked death that tried to get in their way.

That smart-ass kid had thought it'd be funny to send him a note that was just like the one he had given him after he successfully stole the U-boat treasure. He actually laughed out loud after his heart-rate slowed back down to a less life-threatening level. Neal Caffrey's greatest con indeed.

Mozzie had booked a flight to Paris the moment he left that storage container. No time for a new alias, no time to pack anything but bare necessities. He was going to see his best friend after a year of thinking he was dead and that freaked him out just a bit.

The plane ride was too long and quite nerve-racking. He had no idea what he was going to say after all this time. But before he knew it, he was at the apartment that he knew Neal now lived in.

His hand shook slightly as he raised it to knock on the door in front of him. After three slightly hesitant raps and a twenty second pause where Mozzie held his breath, the door opened to reveal his best friend.

"Moz," Neal said, a wide smile on his face, a real one. It looked almost like he hadn't done that in far too long.

"Are you going by Neal now? Or should I call you something else?" Mozzie questioned, really not one for sappy reunions even though he had the strangest urge to close the distance between them and embrace the man that he had once thought he'd never see again.

Neal, somehow, smiled even wider. "No, Neal's fine. Just don't let the neighbors hear you." Neal opened the door wider and stepped back. "Do you want to come in?"

It was a ridiculous question, one Mozzie refused to answer verbally. He walked past Neal and into the spacious and nearly empty apartment and, mostly out of habit, scanned everything around him. Many paintings leaned against the wall near a well-used easel, all forgeries as far as Mozzie could tell. It seemed that the young artist had yet to find himself in the art world. Not surprising but still saddening.

Many expensive wine bottles rested on a rack in the quaint kitchen, with even more in the recycler. Only one chair was at the only table, on it only one plate with what looked like French takeout that had been barely eaten.

There was an impressive view of the Eiffel Tower, one that rivaled the view Neal had once had back in New York. Mozzie walked over to the wide, open window and admired it so he didn't have to look at his friend. Now that he was here, now that Neal was so close to him, so alive, he didn't know what to do or say. What does one say after all this time?

"You're not going to yell?" Neal asked from behind Mozzie, curiosity and confusion clear in his voice.

"I think that'll come later when I've had a some wine in me," Mozzie stated without turning around. "It was the Panthers, right? That's why you did this?"

Mozzie could imagine Neal nodding. "I couldn't let you guys get hurt because of me."

"This has got to be the stupidest thing you've ever done, and it's up against quite the competition," Mozzie informed his friend without letting his voice rise.

"Excuse me?" Neal said, sounding quite shocked by Mozzie's words. He walked around Mozzie until they were facing each other. "What I did wasn't dumb, Mozzie. Too many people have been hurt because of me. Elizabeth, Peter, Kate, you. I can't have people I care about be hurt anymore because of me."

Mozzie shook his head at Neal's good but misplaced intentions. "Why did you leave clues then?" Mozzie asked his friend, though the answer was right in front of him - the apartment void of anything personal, the clear happiness in Neal's eyes that Mozzie doubted had been there for quite some time, the noticeable weight-loss of a man that could barely afford to lose much, the obvious fact that he had yet to form a bond with anyone new. Neal had managed to find Maya when they escaped to Cape Verde, but he had his partner in crime with him. He had no one for a year this time.

Neal's lowered eyes told Mozzie everything that he needed to know. "I couldn't take the isolation anymore, and I can't go back to New York, can't go back to being Neal Caffrey," he eventually said, his voice quiet.

"But you could have destroyed the evidence long before you even faked your death, before your self-imposed exile." When Neal didn't speak up, Mozzie continued. "You knew this would happen, maybe not consciously, but you knew. You knew it wouldn't work, but you still did it."

"It was a risk I was willing to take if it meant everyone's safety," Neal said, foolishly determined for his plan to have been a necessary one.

"I understand your reasons, but you failed to foresee the heartbreak that was endured, on both sides," Mozzie said quietly. It hurt in a way that Mozzie had never experienced before when he saw Neal's pale, lifeless body on that cold metal table a year ago.

"I'm sorry, Mozzie. I couldn't put you in anymore danger than I already have so many times."

"I put myself in danger, for you. Don't think you can stop me by faking your death," Mozzie said as he pointed a finger at Neal.

Neal smiled suddenly. "I'm happy you're here now," he said, the joy of seeing his friend after all this time clear in his voice and eyes.

Mozzie nodded in agreement. "Me too," he said sincerely. The last year had been hard for both of them, but the duo were back together now and it felt so right.

Neal turned to enjoy the view as well, and a comfortable silence settled between them.

"You want to visit the Louvre?" Mozzie asked, excited to case the place again. It had been years since the last time he had seen the Mona Lisa.

Neal smiled without looking away from the view. "I'd love to, but just to look at the art. I've gone straight," he informed his friend.

Mozzie's eyes bugged out. "I thought you were joking about that!" he said, appalled by the idea.

Neal shook his head, a smirk still on his face. "Not this time."

Mozzie wanted to convince him otherwise, but it didn't seem right. If the kid wanted to try to do things the noble and legal way, then who was he to stop him? "Well, that doesn't mean we can't case the place, you know, to keep our skills sharp," Mozzie said, his voice lowered pointlessly.

Neal smiled a truly happy smile. "No, it doesn't."

They were in a new city, had a new life, but each had an old friend to share it with.

 **Thanks for reading!**


End file.
